How Bubba pulled it off

Bubba said that. It was a sultry, sticky day in Lafayette Park, a slow and lazy day, the sun an orange blob in a hazy yellow sky. Far off I thought I could hear children squabbling about a jumprope--although it may have been winos squabbling about a quart of Colt 45--but where Bubba and I sat all was serene. Too hot to move, too moist to cool off even in the shade.

"Y'all thought I was done for. Ever' damn day there was some know-it-all sayin' 'if this', 'if that'. 'If this turns out to be true, he must resign.' Tell the truth, now. You thought I couldn't pull it off, didn't ya?"

I said nothing at all. I've talked to Bubba before.

"Foxed ya, didn't I? I sure did. You thought this was about adultery. You thought it was about fellatio."

"To be honest, Mr.-- To be honest, I liked this story better when it was about fellatio."

"Aw, hell. Ever'body does it, don't they?"

I winced. Maybe I even squirmed. "I personally don't like to think about the man who holds your office engaging in..."

"Sef-grratiffiCAYshun. Say it like Joycelyn does. Sef-grratiffiCAYshun."

I winced again. I'm not proud of myself for that.

Bubba said, "Look at you, all squeamish. Son, there's three things you can do about greatness. You can create it if you have the gift. You can admire it if you have the character. Or you can piss on it. Which role would you assign to me?"

And that answers that, doesn't it?

"Hell, thirty-five years ago, Lenny Bruce got himself arrested for wonderin' if maybe JFK was gettin' it on in the bathroom with a pin-up of Miss July. Now I get myself caught--red-handed ya might say--doin' the Jimmy Swaggert with Miss Big Beautiful Woman and ever'body sighs for relief."

"...I'm not seeing this."

"Well it's ever' married man's secret, ain't it? Buried there at the back of the sock drawer or underneath the old blankets in the cedar chest. A man's got needs. I ain't no differ'nt."

"...But in the Oval Office..."

"Not in the Oval Office. In my little study off to the side. I never did nothin' like that in the Oval Office. Even the Chinese ain't got that much money." He chuckled. "But that ol' Droopy Dawg! He sure was sniffin' at the wrong crotch, wudn't he?"

"How so?"

"I tol' y'all I didn't have sexual relations with that woman!"

"Oh, come on, Bubba."

"Well I didn't!"

"Oh, please."

"No, sir. When you catch your teenager makin' a tent with his sheets, it ain't sexual relations you talk to your wife about. When your puppy dog gets a little too friendly with the throw pillows, it ain't a matter of sexual relations, is it? When they round up all the men in the raincoats down at the peepshows, they ain't lockin' 'em up for sexual relations are they? It still takes two to tango, last I heard."

"But there were two of you."

He nodded. "Too many irons in the fire, you might say. So I put my finger on the problem. Got a grip on the situation. I took the hands-on approach and let my fingers do the walkin'."

He was giggling uncontrollably and I don't know if he was drunk or just pixilated. It doesn't really matter, does it? It's not a cocktail dress that was smeared by this man-boy but the pages of history. And I have the idea that it's all to the good. He's not Cesare Borgia. He's not even Nero. He's just Bubba, the white trash buffoon who accidentally rescued America from the Imperial Presidency.

He said, "Hell, I'm sure nobody thought I could pull it off. But just when you think I'm licked..."

I said, "Please, no."

"Just when they all think I'm licked..."

I said, "Please, Bubba, don't go there."

"Just when ever'body thinks I'm licked..."

"Mr. President, please..."

"I take myself in hand."